Cursed
by IchigoMoonCutter
Summary: Doomed never to rest until he gives in or dies: That is Ichigo's curse for being a crossbreed of Human, Soul Reaper, and Hollow. DISCONTINUED.
1. Prologue

_This is just a teaser for what's to come. It's not much, but it's gonna have a great plot._

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><p><strong>Cursed <strong>

**Prologue**

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><p><em>How did it end up like this?<em>

A boy was locked in a dark room with a solitary window. He was crouched in the farthest corner and had buried his head in his palms, trying to deny his ever being there.

They had left him there to rot in his sudden newfound weakness. Not even bothering to mention the reason why he had just been tossed into a prison.

He felt like some mistreated animal, what with the heavy stone collar adding to that feeling. But not matter how hard he twisted, clawed, or pulled, it remained fastened tightly around his scrawny neck. And it was this collar that was somehow draining him of all his energy.

Never before had he felt so utterly powerless. And never before had he felt so utterly alone.


	2. Chapter 1 So Very Much

Hello. Sorry this took so long. I've been kind of brain dead recently. Just to warn you, this is gonna be a long fanfic and may be slow in a few parts. But slow scenes are necessary for plot.

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><p><strong>Cursed<strong>

**Chapter 1**

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><p>"Hey! Twerp! We're talking to you!"<p>

A young boy glanced up at the street punks surrounding him. They were only a year older than him. Delinquents and idiots only just finishing up elementary school, no doubt they would probably end up in 'Juve' by the start of high school.

Sighing, the young boy stuffed his hands into his pockets and stood up to face his tormenters. He was short and skinny for his age. Yet despite this obvious disadvantage, he was highly skilled in self defense.

It was not this reason, however, why a gang of ten year old losers picked an unprovoked fight with an innocent little boy walking down a street. And it was for that very reason that drew attention to the small boy no matter what age the onlooker was. How could one not notice the kid who had bright orange spiky hair? It was a rather unusual trait, especially in Japan.

The brown eyes flickered from one face to another, wide and cautious. He really didn't want it to come down to a fight, not today at least. Tatsuki had already beaten him up in karate class so he didn't exactly desire anymore pain at the moment.

"Hey look, Ayame, the orange headed _freak_ is scared!"

This comment earned a bunch of guffaws out of the group. Their target remained silent, his eyes on the pavement and it wasn't until the laughter had died down that he spoke.

"Why do I have to deal with idiots all the time?"

The question was directed to himself, although it was meant to be heard by all.

"Oi, what was that?" snapped a rather bulky one with a fat neck, seizing the smaller boy's shirt and holding him up so that they were face to face.

"You heard me, _idiot_…"

Snarling like some mad dog, the bully raised a thick fist and swung at the young boy who caught it in a surprisingly tight grip. He then twisted till he back was facing the wannabe gangster and threw him, dragging the arm down so his enemy did a flip and landed flat on his back.

Leaving his attacker to moan feebly on the ground, the boy smirked and kindly invited the others to join in.

A moment of silence, then all hell broke loose.

Five on one to most would seem unfair at first. But in fact it was the opposite. The young boy held his own quite well against such overcoming odds. Sadly, he was used to it. This was more or less a once-a-week occurrence.

Soon, only one was left, the fiercest and biggest of them all, namely Ayame. And it was he who finally managed to land a punch in the kid's face. Sent reeling into a wall, the boy slumped as stars blinded his vision for a moment. But a moment was all it took for his opponent to land the finishing blow.

"Ha! How'd you like that, Ichigo Kurosaki?" the bully shouted at the unconscious form that was only a few seconds before kicking the crap out of them all. A small pool of blood had begun to spread beneath the beaten form that was Ichigo. But this fact only seemed to add to the joy and adrenaline to Ayame. He only wanted to keep on pounding the runt into the ground, break all the bones in his body, make sure he could never move again.

Before he could act on this new impulse, a foot came flying out of nowhere. Effectively smacking Ayame in the face and knocking him out in the process.

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><p>A new person had arrived, standing tall and confident, her face filled with animosity at the scene before her. She surveyed the six unconscious bodies all sprawled along the pavement until she found on that caught her interest. Her eyes softened and she rushed forwards towards the battered Ichigo. He was in bad shape. Bruises covered his arms and legs, an eye had swollen shut and blood was trickling from his forehead. A faint groan escaped his lips as the girl pulled his arm around her neck in an attempt to carry him.<p>

"Shut up, stupid, and let me drag you home," she hissed fondly and started to make the long trek towards where Ichigo lived. Normally, it would be hard work for such a small girl to half lug, half carry a limp boy. But Tatsuki was not normal, like her orange haired friend. She was a hearty tomboy, champion in their karate dojo and soon to be brown belt at the young age of nine. Lifting deadweight, or in this case, Ichigo, was no problem for her. Nevertheless, she was happy when he regained consciousness to the point where he was able to stagger alongside her.

"Don't push yourself," Tatsuki snapped as Ichigo stumbled clumsily in a hasty effort to reach home. Despite of the situation, Ichigo grinned.

"Mom's gonna throw a fit when she sees me. And I'm _not_ pushing myself! I'm walking!"

Tatsuki only smiled in reply and didn't feel like pointing out that the most her best friend could mange was hobble a few paces without support.

'Home' soon came into view. Giant words that proclaimed 'Kurosaki Clinic' were plastered to a blue sign above two glass doors, trimmed bushes lining the walls in an overall welcoming manner. The lone business along a residential area tended to draw the eye of passersby. But Tatsuki walked past the front and opened a gate round the back of the clinic, supporting Ichigo all the while and restraining him to prevent him from running to the door in his eagerness to see his mother.

_Honestly! He's such a sissy when it comes to his mom._

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><p>"Moron…" she grumbled as she rung the doorbell. A big grin was working its way onto Ichigo's face, visibly annoying Tatsuki even more.<p>

The door opened, revealing a short dark haired girl who looked no more than five years old.

"Hi Karin!" said Ichigo cheerfully as his younger sister pulled him happily indoors, dragging Tatsuki along for the ride as she was still holding Ichigo upright.

"Yuzu! Daddy! Ichi's back with Tatsuki!"

There was a delighted squeal from down the hallway and a small girl with mouse colored hair came running into sight.

"Brother! Mommy's been teaching me how to cook! I made curry all on my own without much help! Do you want to try some? I had fun using a knife to cut up veggies! Mommy already cut up the chicken. But I did the rest!"

"Sure, I'll try some," said Ichigo, following both sisters as they lead him towards the kitchen with Tatsuki in tow. He made it half way to the kitchen when a rather serious voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Ichigo, come here and let me fix that before you bleed to death."

"I'm fine, dad," he grumbled, the beginnings of a scowl starting to creep over his features. This comment earned him an elbow in the gut from Tatsuki and he crumpled to the floor in agony, coughing up blood as he gripped his ribs.

"You're not 'fine' if a wimpy hit like that can make you fall!" she yelled at him. Ichigo was about to protest when he felt someone pick him up by the shirt so he was dangling in mid air.

"Oi! Lemme go, goat face!" he shouted angrily, aiming a kick at his father who laughed and caught his foot easily.

"Now now, my foolish son! It's a good thing your mother went out shopping or she'd throw a fit, so be grateful I'm going to be patching up!" The unshaven dark haired man had already lifted Ichigo inside the treatment center room and onto a bed, Tatsuki smirking from the hallway.

"Shut up! I don't need any patching—hey! Stop that!"

But the needle was already in Ichigo's arm before he could jerk it out of harm's way.

"Relax; I need to make sure you haven't broken any ribs," still grinning, Isshin Kurosaki gave Ichigo a firm pat on the back, causing his son to cough up more blood, "So, no more yelling, you'll just make it worse."

"Why you b—" was all Ichigo could splutter before the tranquilizer kicked in and he was calm enough to let his father examine his chest. There was a large amount of purple bruising. Each mark was seemed to be more painful than the last as Ichigo snarled between painful gasps every time Isshin poked one, testing for fracture.

"What was the reason this time?" the older man asked. His carefree manner disappeared in a flash. Ichigo knew what he was implying.

"My hair…" he mumbled, looking away sourly and biting his lip. His anger drained away, leaving him with a crippling feeling. "They started making fun of my hair color. They also called me a freak for talking to people with chains in their chests…something about talking to thin air instead. They told me to disappear, to go die…I ignored them…at first…"

Isshin eyed him for a moment then pressed particularly hard on large bruise, making Ichigo cry out, though more out of annoyance than anything.

"Stupid son, don't let them get to you! Besides, I know at least four people who'd miss you if you disappeared…"

There was a moment of silence before…

"Thanks dad…"

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><p>Later that night after Tatsuki had gone home; Ichigo Kurosaki was to be found up in his room, quite snug and comfortable under his many blankets.<p>

He wasn't hurt as badly as they all had originally thought. Only a few bad bruises on the ribcage and a long cut on his left temple. An ice pack covered his left eye to help the swelling to go down. Ichigo didn't feel like moving much. All his muscles were strained and aching, spiting the pain killers he had taken previously to help.

Masaki, his mother, had reacted in the way he'd expected. She had indeed thrown a fit when she took one look at the beaten up Ichigo and insisted on taking him home personally after every karate lesson from now on.

He smiled to himself at the thought. Even though he was a big boy now, he still didn't mind walking home with his mom. Even if those mean kids came back, he would protect her from them. He wanted to prove to her that he could protect anything he wanted to. He wanted to prove he was strong.

Ichigo loved his mom.

So very much.


	3. Chapter 2 Torment Myself

Hello once again. Thanks for being patient. I know this is slightly...well, really boring. But don't worry. The next chapter will be much more juicy._  
><em>

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><p><strong>Cursed<strong>

**Chapter 2**

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><p><em>The rain, it was falling so hard. For days on end, it just wouldn't stop. Just like the blood.<em>

_The world was ending. No…it had ended. It had come crashing down till there was nothing left, nothing but guilt and sorrow._

_Ichigo's rain coat was soaked through. His normally spiky hair was now drooped and wilted. Blood covered his hands and chest. But he did not care. It wasn't his own… It should have been though._

_His dearest mother, Masaki, lay dead on the grass before him. How did he know she was dead? It was simple of course. All the blood that was soaking the ground was answer enough. He could feel no life force in her. She was gone._

_If only…if only he hadn't of ran, if only he'd sensed it in time, that split second of danger._

_He wanted to be strong. He wanted to protect her. But in the end, she'd protected him and paid with her life._

_Ichigo shook her shoulder desperately, pleaded, and begged for her to return; asking her not to leave him all alone. He knew it was pointless in the end, she would not return, and it was all his fault…_

_He eventually stopped shaking his mother's limp form, shock freezing him in place, making him oblivious to the cold rain and shivers that passed through his body, stopping the tears from falling. If he cried now, no one would be able to comfort him, to tell him that it was okay, to hold on and make it through the night. But there was no getting out of this one. Nothing would ever be 'okay' ever again._

_His arms were limp at his side, no longer able to move._

_The rain wouldn't stop falling._

_His breath came fast and harsh while his pupils were dilating. _

_The rain was coming down harder than ever._

_All his remaining strength left him as his small form slumped to the ground, finally losing consciousness._

_The rain never stopped falling._

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><p>Something hard slammed on his head, making his eyes water with pain.<p>

"Wha—"

"Wake up idiot! Class is over!"

Ichigo gazed blearily up at Tatsuki who was leering over him, dictionary poised to smack him on the temple again.

"Oh…right." He stuffed his math books back into his bag, clearly lacking enthusiasm.

It was that nightmare again. The same one he'd been having for three years, night after night. Sometimes, he saw a hairy monster jumping out of the shadows and devouring his mom. Other nights, he would hear voices, telling him to come back, to stay away. It was simple mental torture, always keeping it fresh just to remind him of his curse. Always showing what happened, what he could have done… And the night previously had just so happened to be one of 'those' nights that his old nightmare had come back in full force, leaving him awake for the remainder of the night shivering in bed.

Tatsuki's eyes narrowed and she leaned closer, "Anyway, are you gonna answer?"

Ichigo blinked, "Answer what?"

The dictionary came down swiftly connecting hard with Ichigo's skull.

"I was asking you why you quit our dojo! You were starting to become a worthy opponent!"

"I told you already," said Ichigo, wincing as he stood up, book bag in hand. "After I beat you, I saw no reason to continue."

"Oh, so you quit as soon as you get ahead, is that it?"

He smirked. This was just too easy.

"Yep, if you put it like that—"

Tatsuki dropped the large book and threw her well trained fist straight at his nose. He dodged; tilting his head to one side and catching her arm, surprising her. Smirking at her startled look, Ichigo released her wrist.

"Oh wipe that wimpy look off your face, Tatsuki. I get 'fight sessions' with my dad all the time to 'keep my skills sharp' or some stupid excuse like that. Besides, people still pick fights with me every week or so…" he dodged another punch, this one aimed at his stomach.

"Just shut up!" snapped Tatsuki and stomped haughtily away. Ichigo shook his head, completely at a loss.

"Girls…"

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><p>A hungry cry filled the air; loud steps could be heard crushing pavement as something huge lumbered towards a delicious aroma. No one stopped the beast on its way. No one heard its mournful wails echoing through the streets. Everyone, be it human or animal, could not even lay eyes on this particular monster. It was invisible to all. It was a silent killer. It was an unspeakable fear.<p>

_No, not again!_

Another bone chilling scream split the silence. It was closer this time. No matter how fast he ran or how far he went, the famished monster still seemed to be gaining ground.

This was the second time something like this had happened. Ichigo could remember quite clearly. It was about six months after his mother died, when he was ten. He'd been walking back from school after beating up some kids who picked on him for his hair when he saw it—a large insect like creature with six legs and large scales. But what were most memorable about its appearance were that ever smiling mask on its face and the foot long hole on its chest, reaching straight through the body. It had charged at him and he had run. Hair raising cries of "TASTYYYYY SOULLLLLL!" compelled him to run faster then he'd ever run in his entire life. But he could only run so far before he had no choice but to fight. No weapons could be found but for a few stones on the ground. Only when he'd thrown the heaviest rock at the fiend so its masked cracked open did it finally leave him alone.

Ichigo took a sharp left turn, heading into a wooded area. When dealing with invisible monsters, the more private, the better, especially when one wanted to avoid awkward questions. It must look quite silly for the average human to see a twelve year old boy still playing pretend, fighting imaginary creatures.

Ducking underneath a few low overhanging branches, the boy took to the shadows, hoping to blend in with the undergrowth. The heavy footfalls came closer. A horrible smell started to fill the air, reeking of dead things and stale blood. Ichigo peered through the plants, catching sight of the thing that had been chasing him.

"WHEREEE ARE YOUUU...HUMANNNNN CHIIIILD..." hissed the monster menacingly. Its massive masked head turned this way and that looking around the forest, trying to pinpoint Ichigo's hiding spot.

"IIII CANNNNN SMELLLL YOUUUUU…YOUUUU CANNOTTT HIDEEE YOURRRR SPIRITTTT ENERGYYYY FROMMM MEEEE…"

Ichigo held his breath, fear coursing through his veins. He wanted nothing more than to disappear; to get away from that creature and that sickening stench.

The monster moved closer, the scaly body tense and ready to strike. And then the most random, unexpected thing happened.

The words 'Kamisori, Benihime…' were murmured lazily from a person who appeared out thin air as they swung their sword in a slashing movement, straight at the creature's mask. There was a blinding red explosion and an almost pitiful wail before the monster was consumed into nothingness.

Ichigo sat frozen where he was hiding, taking in the scene before him. The man who had appeared from nowhere changed his sword back into a stick. He sighed and then turned, narrowing his eyes at the exact spot where Ichigo was hidden. The boy gulped. He knew that person. Well, they hadn't really officially met before. Ichigo had seen him once when he was 11, but he was barely conscious at the time and could barely remember any details of the event. All he knew was this was the second time his life had been saved by this strange man.

But the so called man did not move towards Ichigo's location, he simply disappeared again, vanishing from the spot.

Ichigo crawled shakily out from the safety of the cluster of bushes, looking around cautiously. No danger in sight…no yucky smell filling the air…no sign or trace of the strange man…good.

His feet started to carry him towards a painfully familiar destination, away from the park. It was a place he visited often to clear his mind. It was the place where his mother died.

He would talk to her there, ask her things. It was…comforting, like she could hear him as he spoke to the wind. This place always filled him with remorse and resolve. It was his fault she had died. That much was true to him. Yet it was this fact that gave him the overwhelming desire to become stronger. He never wanted to see Yuzu or Karin cry because he made a mistake.

The boy shook himself mentally and turned about in his tracks, changing directions and taking off at a run after an unwelcome thought entered his mind. It was almost seven o'clock. One second late in coming home and his father would be overly insane (more so than usual) for the entire evening.

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><p>"Do you really think you can outrun me?"<p>

The horned figure scoffed at the remark; his insane smile ever present on his pale mask. It was spiting the numerous wounds on his body. Despite his high speed regeneration, one could only take so much damage and use so much power. He glanced back at his pursuer while licking his own blood off his lips. "Yes, I do as a matter of fact. Don't make me laugh, Soul Reaper! Hollows joining forces with the likes of you are only the stupid, fearful, and weak! I'd rather run then be forced into a life of servitude for you."

A man in a while coat smirked at this.

"You'll serve me no matter where you go. Such raw power is not going to be overlooked or wasted. As the most powerful Vasto Lord, one should feel honored that I'm coming to see you personally in order to deal with you."

The horned Vasto Lord laughed again, tilting his head to one side.

"Flattery will get you nowhere Soul Reaper! You'll never catch me!"

Confidence filled his voice, but his mind less was certain.

_Stupid Soul Reaper Captain! Why won't he just give up? He already has more than enough of my kind. Just what is he after? Oh…right. He said so himself—my power. Yet…it's something more than that. Sure, I'm a bit stronger than those other Vasto Lordes, but there's something else to it, something that sets me apart from them. He's not treating me like the others. He's not fighting seriously. Like he wants me to try to escape…_

He couldn't think of anything that would answer that. His life had lasted exactly thirteen years. Born into existence and then a time of rising through the ranks; breaking all physical laws just to be as strong as he was. His own growth rate was something to be admired and feared. Most hollows tended to take hundreds of years to reach the levels of the elite. He had not, somehow defying the thousand year old tradition of slow going evolution. It was not entirely unheard of. There were rumors—whispers of something out there—some object that could grant you power. In fact, there were plenty of rumors of him possessing such an artifact. But he had no such power nor did he have any desire to obtain it.

The Vasto Lord glared at Aizen, his yellow eyes narrowing as he calculated his chances of escape. It was hard to say.

And then a thought occurred to him. His usual cocky smirk worked its way under the mask. He wasn't going to let this Soul Reaper get what he wanted. He wanted to frustrate him, to spite him. Even if it meant destroying himself to do so, as long as that all knowing smirk would turn into a frown, he would be happy. But the question was how to go about this plan? The Vasto Lord tried vaguely to recall what he'd heard from the others.

This Soul Reaper, Aizen, was recruiting a hollow army to stage a cue in the Soul Society. Well, not so much as a takeover but more of just killing every big shot to get what he wanted. These intentions were not public knowledge (for obvious reasons). Therefore, recruiting an army would take a long time, since leading a double life can only go so far. The Soul Society does not monitor Hueco Mundo very well, but the World of the Living however, a Soul Reaper Captain would have a very hard time going there and not being noticed. They would need time to prepare with the right equipment. But he, a Vasto Lord could cloak himself easily, undetected by the Soul Reapers. Yes, making Aizen go through all that trouble would be pleasing enough.

But what to do when in the World of the Living?

The horned Vasto Lord did not have any particular death wish, killing himself was certainly not the way to go. How else could he laugh at Aizen when he saw the "raw power" go to waste? He supposed he'd find out when he arrived. After all, it would at least be a few weeks before Aizen could follow. And that was more than enough time to hide.

The Hollow's thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt as Aizen suddenly appeared directly in front of him. He snarled and lashed out a white claw towards the Soul Reaper, but found himself being stabbed in the back.

"Tch…you just can't face me head on." He could feel Aizen's smirk as the sword twisted, causing him to grunt in pain. The 'fake' Aizen in front of him dissolved into air; it was an illusion….stupid zanpakuto…

"Anymore fighting and I'll be forced to seriously maim you, little Hollow,"

The Vasto Lord winced beneath his mask. He did not like where this was headed. Aizen was toying with him deliberately, pushing him to run away while making no visible effort to capture him. What was _wrong_ with this picture?

At first, it had been an amusing challenge that a Soul Reaper would want to fight the most powerful Vasto Lord known in existence. But as his subordinates had wisely stated (before Aizen murdered them) this Soul Reaper was different from the rest. Like himself…

"King!"

There was a swift movement and Aizen glanced up to see the last remaining survivor of the Vasto Lord's followers. The Soul Reaper made a move to retract his blade, but the Vasto Lord was gripping it; holding it firmly in place while his subordinate performed the deed.

Aizen's sword was cleaved in two in a matter of seconds. But it was just enough time for the wounded Hollow to open a garganta and throw himself inside. The rip in space closed just as the one who cut Aizen's sword in half slipped in behind his king.

Steadily, they made their way along the treacherous path. Neither spoke or looked at the other. Their aim was to reach the World of the Living as fast as possible. The more time, the better.

**RETURN.**

The feeling was becoming stronger to the Vasto Lord. It was distracting him from his thoughts. Somewhere, deep down was the overwhelming desire to become whole again.

But that, in its self made no sense at all.


	4. Discontinued

I am regretfully ending this story.

This is something that I loathe to do. Yet it must be done.

It is simply too long of a plot for me to continue. I am focusing on my two other stories for now. It's hard enough as it is.

Although, I will be writing a oneshot that will tell how this story will end, so be on the look out for that.

It will come in a month or two. I had so many good ideas for this fanfic that I have to write them down somehow...

The reason why there are so many errors in this fanfic is because I never bothered to edit it. I apologize.

I have not yet decided to delete this story, since it will be discontinued. Opinions will be noted.

The oneshot that will be the ending of this story will be called "Cursed by thy Name".


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